


Wave Function Collapse

by KivaEmber



Category: Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Survivor 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Fic Reboot, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mental Instability, Time Loop
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-19
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-16 08:20:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1338547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KivaEmber/pseuds/KivaEmber
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yamato wakes up at 8:00am on the 9th of June every day. He lives for twenty three hours each time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reboot

Yamato’s watch said  _0705, 6/10._

“-I am recommending Hibiki Kuze for promotion to section commander-” Makoto was speaking, but Yamato tuned her out, his eyes not shifting from his watch. The seconds were continuing in ticking forwards, 10, 20, 30 – until it was now _0706_. Then he pressed the button on the side of his watch.

It was reset.

“I accept your proposal.”

Makoto paused, in mid-speech, but swiftly recovered, “That was a very swift decision, Chief,” she said carefully. Understandable. She hadn’t even begun expanding on her reasons as to why Hibiki Kuze was to be promoted, and Yamato did not know him from the many faceless grunts that JP’s had mass-hired in recent months. It normally took a year for recommendations to come spilling forth.

“Yes,” he didn’t bother explaining himself. There was no point. “Inform Kuze of the good news, Makoto.”

There was a bit of a pause, and Yamato’s watch now said  _0812, 6/09._ Makoto merely bowed when the tense moment passed, and he looked up to see his trusted lieutenant staring down at him with a look of part suspicion, and part concern.

“Had you already been observing Kuze, Chief?”

“Yes,” Yamato lied, “His exploits will be impressive.”

Makoto frowned, and Yamato automatically reached for his phone. In the next split second it began ringing.

“You are excused, Makoto.”

She left without complaint, and Yamato accepted the phone call. The high pitched voice of a familiar secretary began speaking, but Yamato hung up before she finished saying ‘Director-’. It was always too much to wish for something different, wasn’t it? In a somewhat impulsive movement, Yamato leaned back in his chair, eyeing the trashcan set beneath his desk and – tossed his phone into it.

He wouldn’t be needing it.

Hibiki Kuze’s picture was on his desk. It was a mugshot taken on his first day of arriving at JP’s; slightly nervous, but sporting a smile despite it being an identification photograph. Next to his picture was his profile – psychological profile, physical profile, spiritual capabilities, personal life, everything. Yamato had read and read and read and read and read and read until the words were permanently engraved on the back of his eyelids.

“Six-thousand three-hundred seventy-two attempts,” he said aloud, planting his hand on top of the papers and idly pushing them around his desk. He suddenly flipped them over, picking up a pen from his desk and scribbling on the back of them. A flowchart. It wasn’t a serious one. He made flowcharts after the hundredth time, because it had been the only way for him to keep track of the various endings and routes he could take.

After the thousandth he learned it was an effort in futility.

But it helped to ground him in every new loop, to review his past actions and the consequences, and to stop him from spiralling into a complete meltdown. It had already happened several times during the course of this, and he was beginning to find it a little boring, going insane. One can only burn down JP’s HQ and commit suicide so many times before even that lost its emotional impact.

Yamato sat back in his chair once he had finished, admiring his flowchart. Each web branched off into a new and beautiful demise at exactly  _0700_  on June 10th. His birthday.

“I have twenty three hours,” Yamato said aloud, because this always helped to put him in the right frame of mind. He sat there, and said it again, perhaps five more times, even though it was technically incorrect as he had twenty two hours and forty minutes at this point. Every minute was precious.

Yamato sprang out of his chair, overcome with sudden, manic energy. He made for the door.

“Eight-million seven-hundred ninety-three thousand three-hundred and sixty minutes,” he said, although that was incorrect as it was now eight-million seven-hundred ninety-three thousand three-hundred and  _eighty_ minutes, but details.

He stepped out of his office, and immediately went left, almost breaking out into a jog as he made his way down the corridor, to the right, forwards, on the catwalk – ignoring the greetings and acknowledgement of his existence from various subordinates. He knew some of them, various attempts had him taking different routes, snatching at random subordinates in hopes that perhaps, more diamonds in rough like Hibiki would be milling in his ranks, wondering if maybe, somehow, something, someone, would get  _him **out-**_

…

At  _0833_  Yamato Hotsuin was at the JP’s employee lounge. It was well equipped, even if it was quite blandly decorated. Yamato understood that happy employees were hard working employees, so had taken their suggestions seriously when he had first installed the lounge. They asked for outrageous things, vending machines, pool tables, television with satellite, fridges, a karaoke machine – everything. Yamato bought it all.

He made a beeline for the grey sofa in the far corner. The figure sitting in it was situated in a way that their identity was hidden from the doorway, but Yamato already knew who it was. The figure sat up a little, their head turning towards him as he approached, and then-

A wide, friendly smile, edged with polite deference given to those of superior rank, and bright blue eyes at odds with his otherwise Asian features. “Oh, Chief Hotsuin,” the man said, his voice light, “I didn’t know you came here.”

“I don’t,” Yamato replied – and he smiled.

The clock on the bottom left corner of the television said  _0835_.

“Guess this is the exception, then?” the man got up off the sofa, and stood at a casual attention, his hands loose and relaxed, at his sides, and his head slightly cocked. His JP’s uniform was broken by the white jacket. It clashed horribly. Yamato had informed the man this seventy times before he gave up.

“Yes,” Yamato took a precious few seconds to look the man up and down, from the tips of his shoes to the top of the head, yet, as usual, nothing new leapt out at him. From the very beginning, Hibiki Kuze remained the same – could always be found in the employee’s lounge before  _0837_ , as if waiting for him, and after that-

“Is there… something you need, Chief?” Hibiki asked, and his smile became a little more fixed. Right.

“Yes, there is something I need,” Yamato said. He widened his stance, feet shoulder width apart, and counted twenty seconds in his head, ignoring how Hibiki’s expression became more and more bemused. The moment he reached twenty-

The television went black. The overhead lights switched off. Everything plunged into complete darkness – broken only when the emergency lights flickered on, bathing everything in a gloomy green light. In the dimness, Yamato saw Hibiki’s stunned expression, and he checked his watch, tapping the button for its backlight.

 _0837_.

“What I need,” Yamato said, as if he hadn’t been interrupted, and he stepped forward – for the hundredth, thousandth, millionth, time – reaching out until he gripped Hibiki’s arm, staring into the man’s innocently bewildered eyes. It must be nice, to be ignorant of everything. Yamato envied him so much he wish he’d choke on it, “Is for you to survive longer than twenty two hours, Kuze.”

The time started now, and Yamato was determined that this loop was going to be his last. 


	2. Cursed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let us go to the beginning of this world's nightmare.

**_June 9 th – 5:50am_ **

 

There was no worst feeling than going to work sick.

 

Ayano sniffled into her sleeve, trying not to look overly miserable as the elevator groaned lowly. She was still new to this place, to JP’s, and while she normally went to work – even at _six in the morning_ – with a spring in her step, she just didn’t have the energy for it today. It didn’t help that it had been raining from the moment she stepped out of her apartment, forcing her to bike to work in the downpour. She was absolutely soaked.

 

“Nnh… I wonder if I can ask Miss Sako to let me use Amrita,” she mumbled thickly into her sleeve. Her commander was someone who didn’t tolerate ‘misuse’ of their demon summoning apps, and that included personal use for minor things like healing paper cuts and the like. She remembered when Sampson got caught using Agi to reheat a cold pastry. Ahhh, he had gotten ripped a new asshole…

 

The elevator shuddered to a halt, and she lowered her sleeve, giving one last, deep sniff to try and clear her nose. It had minimal success.

 

“Ah, perk up, perk up~” Ayano slapped at her cheeks lightly as the heavy metal doors opened. At this time, there weren’t many people about, and when she stepped out into the large, golden hall, there wasn’t a single soul drifting about. The catwalks were completely empty, and there was barely any noise muttering in the background – only the hum of machinery.

 

“Hm, that’s weird… where’s Miki?”

 

Miki was her fellow co-worker who was _always_ on guard duty for her shifts. Guard duty was the worst thing anyone could do, in Ayano’s opinion – having to sit by the elevator for hours on end, checking everyone’s identification cards to make sure they were who they said they were, even if you couldn’t even step onto the elevator if you weren’t. She was a quiet, dull looking girl who always spoke in a flat monotone, with dark, short hair, and equally dark eyes. But today, her little reception desk wasn’t there.

 

Ayano looked about herself, before shrugging it off. Maybe she had gone to the bathroom? Surely even Miki needed to pee on duty every so often, and it wasn’t as if Ayano was some spy or terrorist, so she supposed she could just walk past-

 

“Ah… _achoo!_ ” A sneeze suddenly wrenched itself free from Ayano, and she groaned in misery, rubbing at her nose. Oh, ew, she sneezed all over Miki’s desk…! That was so gross!

 

Quickly, she wiped up the little visible droplets on the polished surface with her sleeve, and moved on, muffling a cough with her hand. Damn, she really, _really_ hated coming into work sick! She hoped everyone else got this so they suffered with her, or let her have paid sick leave for a few days! How was she going to be an efficient worker if they made her come in?!

 

Only three minutes after Ayano left, Miki returned, having indeed gone to the bathroom. As she settled into her chair, she frowned when she saw a wet smear on her desk, and reached out to touch it cautiously. She glanced at the small monitor beneath the desk, rewinding it to see… Instantly, her blank expression dipped into a frown.

 

“…Ayano. Leaving a mess on my desk…” she wiped the wet streak off with her sleeve, and then turned back to her book that had been resting beneath the desk, paying it no mind.

 

And that was how all of this began.

 

* * *

 

**_June 9 th – 7:49am_ **

 

Hibiki felt his jaw click as he yawned widely, his eyes blearily staring the lounge room’s television screen. It was just him in here, so he could watch his magical girl anime without any shame, but his mind was so _exhausted_ he was finding it difficult to keep track of all the wild, flashing, colourful lights on the screen, occasionally going cross-eyed as his eyelids tried to slide closed.

 

He had recently just come off an all-nighter shift – one of the many he’d been hit with in the recent month. Hibiki didn’t know what he had done to offend Sako to have her give him the most sadistic work schedule in history, but he had a feeling he was being tested. He was barely keeping up with it, having to forego travelling home just to steal some extra hours of sleep in the lounge room, or, sometimes sneaking into someone’s allocated dorm room while they were working. If no one knew, it wasn’t a crime. That was his stance on _that_.

 

“I’m soooo _sleeeeeeepy_ ~” he whined to himself, squeezing his eyes shut as the cute, perky voice of the anime’s protagonist chirped _“for love and justice!”_ If there was any justice in the world, Hibiki would be in _his_ bed _right now_. The world was cruel.

 

With a grunt, Hibiki picked up the television remote, and switched it onto something less bright and cheerful. The news came on, advising those elderly, young, and weak to get their flu jabs this season. Hibiki pillowed his head on his arm, and closed his eyes, letting the low voice lull him into a state of half awareness.

 

His next shift started at _0900_. Sako said he had to meet with the boss man sometime today, in a way that was uncharacteristically sly of her – well, as sly as she could get. She seemed a little flustered and preoccupied, thinking on it, and Hibiki hoped he wasn’t in trouble. His way of doing things clashed with JP’s traditional methods more often than not, but thus far he had been able to avoid the criticising gaze of Chief Hotsuin. He had met the man only twice, and each time had been a terrifying experience.

 

The guy probably didn’t even know who he was. Hibiki had been so soundly ignored or dismissed in those two meetings; he had felt like he was actually a potted plant instead of a human being. To have his sudden interest now, according to Sako was… weird…  

 

“Who knows… probably a promotion…” Hibiki laughed under his breath, knowing there was no chance in hell of that. He opened his eyes, staring tiredly at the news – the background was now one of the main roads out of Tokyo, and the clock now said _0800_ -

 

_“Hrck!”_

 

A sharp, abrupt pain suddenly _stabbed_ Hibiki right in the chest, and he half-jolted upright, his hand frantically clawing at his breastbone as he wheezed. His fingers met nothing but stiff fabric, but he could feel – as if, something, sharp and deep, twisting and jerking deep inside of his chest cavity, shredding soft tissue, cold and alien, stealing his breath – black spots, dancing and twisting, the room getting all blurry, spinning, blood in his mouth and echoes-

 

 _“…on’t- …nnot… peat ag…il he… lost in… endless time… so shall he be **cursed**_.”

 

_“No-!”_

 

who

 

who was that

 

sc r e

 

m i

 

ng-?

 

* * *

 

**_June 9 th – 8:12am_ **

 

Hibiki woke up with a small yawn, a dull ache in his chest and his head feeling a little fuzzy. The news was mumbling on the television screen, and it took him a few, slow seconds to realise he was in the employee lounge. Huh? Why was he- oh right, he had a late night again, didn’t he? God, he felt so _sore_. This was why he hated sleeping on furniture.

 

He pushed himself up, having realised he had been sprawled gracelessly over the sofa, his limbs all splayed haphazardly – it was a miracle he hadn’t fallen off – and settled himself into a more dignified position. His eyelids felt heavy and there a dull, pounding ache between his temples. He had a funny taste in his mouth too, although he didn’t know why. Shit, did he brush his teeth last night? He sure hoped so, otherwise…

 

Well, work didn’t start ‘til nine, so he’d brush them in someone’s dorm room before then. He stretched his arms high above his head, back arching – and stopped with a small ‘ _ow_ ’ when a phantom pain jabbed him right between his ribs. Ah, that felt like a stitch, ow…

 

He settled back down, rubbing the sore spot, and didn’t think much more of it, sleepily watching the time slip by, until it was _0830_ , and Hibiki was trying to remember who would still be on duty right now, leaving their room open to invasion. He decided that Kanda, the guy who worked in Kanno’s labs, would be absent, and was about to rise from his seat when he heard someone enter.

 

Hibiki sat up, turning with a smile in place, expecting it to be the early bird beauty who came in around this time (she was like a goddess in terms of look, with an adorable personality to boot), only for that smile to freeze when he realised it was _Yamato Hotsuin_ , Chief of JP’s, walking over to him with purpose and-

 

Oh, shit, didn’t Sako say he wanted to see him at some point today? Was his appointment meant to be now or – she never said-

 

Just play it cool, Hibiki, he coached himself, rising from his seat with his hands splayed out in a calming gesture, turning up his bright smile by a few notches. Dazzle and daze, that was his motto. “Oh, Chief Hotsuin,” he said cheerfully, “I didn’t know you came here.”

 

“I don’t,” Yamato’s voice was abrupt, and just as Hibiki began to feel cold sweat begin to prick his forehead, his boss’s severe expression was broken with a… surprisingly _pretty_ smile. He had never seen the Chief look so _human_ before, and there was a bit of a lull where Hibiki just stared at him. He quickly recovered though.

 

“Guess this is the exception, then?” he questioned lightly, lowering his hands so that he was standing at a relaxed attention, trying not to clench his hands. His palms felt sweaty, especially when the Chief’s gaze slowly looked at him up and down, giving him the strange sensation of being completely naked under the intensity of his stare. This was… sort of… uncomfortable…

 

“Yes,” Yamato murmured. He said nothing else before that, and just stared at him – almost expectantly. What did he want? This was seriously one of the weirdest and nerve-wracking encounters Hibiki had ever had and – the way he was looking at him… should he file for sexual harassment or something?!

 

“Is there… something you need, Chief?” he asked, unable to stop his voice from crawling upwards in pitch, his smile starting to strain his facial muscles. Keep it up, keep it up…

 

“Yes, there is something I need,” Yamato replied, and proceeded… to do nothing. He continued to stare, his stance wide and steady, his eyes still focused on him with that eerie intensity. Hibiki wondered if, perhaps, his boss was having some sort of stroke, or mental breakdown, and that he should call Sako on speeddial right now. She was well known as the Chief’s personal minder, able to curb the worst of his bad moods with careful words and direction. Maybe she knew how to handle this obvious lapse of sanity-

 

The lights suddenly cut off in the room, only for it to be illuminated once more by the whirr of green emergency lights. Hibiki couldn’t help but make a startled noise – especially when Yamato suddenly _moved_ , gripping onto his arm almost painfully, his eyes bright with a feverish sort of franticness in the pale, green gloom.

 

“What I need,” Yamato murmured, his voice brimming with an emotion Hibiki couldn’t begin to untangle, “Is for you to survive longer than twenty two hours, Kuze.”

 

“What?”

 

But Yamato did not pause to explain, or soothe Hibiki’s growing anxiety at how weird his boss was acting. Instead he pulled on his arm – hard – almost upsetting his balance as he dragged him _forwards,_ until they were almost nose to nose, Yamato’s other hand gripping onto his other wrist, keeping him firmly in place unless he wanted to dislocate his shoulder wrenching away.

 

“Listen to my every order without question if you wish to survive, understand, Kuze?” Yamato’s voice was barely louder than a whisper, and even this close, Hibiki barely heard him, “JP’s has been compromised, and we are currently under siege by a malevolent and powerful demon. There is no room for error, if we are to escape this alive.”

 

JP’s was under _siege_? Really?! How did a demon even come inside of here? Didn’t JP’s have the most cutting edge protections against monsters and demons? For that matter, how long had it been going on for while Hibiki had been obliviously asleep? Why didn’t Yamato say that the second he came in, instead of doing that weird staring for five whole minutes? What was with the _whispering_?!

 

“Um, okay,” Hibiki felt that agreeing for now would be best. Maybe the Chief had really gone off the deep end. He did have a super stressful job after all, “Understood, Chief. Maybe we should go find Sako?”

 

She would know what to do in this bizarre and mildly frightening situation!

 

Yamato’s expression shifted in a way that Hibiki couldn’t read, but he nodded after a pause, “Yes. She should still be in the infirmary, if I recall correctly… until _0852_ …”

 

Oddly specific timing there, but Hibiki rolled with it. “Let’s go there then, the infirmary.” Absolutely perfect. Otome can be there to help their Chief with his obvious mental breakdown – then Hibiki can find out who tripped the electricity again. For such a high end facility, the wiring in this place was temperamental. It was the third black out this week alone.

 

Yamato, thankfully, released him and moved away. “With haste. It is currently _0840_. Time is limited.”

 

“Yeah,” Hibiki practically breathed out, and they both left the employee lounge at a swift power walk. He stayed behind the Chief, just in case he ran off to do something odd, the hallways feeling strangely… _dangerous_ in the dark gloom. There was a definite edge in the air, one that didn’t normally accompany the usual blackouts, and it left Hibiki feeling a little tense. Maybe Yamato was just winding him up.

 

Those were his thoughts until they reached the catwalk that overlooked the golden hall, at exactly _0847_. It was then that the nightmare really began.


End file.
